Behind Blue Eyes
by Lowlands' ceres
Summary: No one knows what it is like to be the bad man behind blue eyes. While listening to the song by the Who, Draco appeared to my inner eyes and asked me to write this fic. R


_No one knows what is like _

_To be the bad man _

_To be the sad man _

_Behind blue eyes_

_Behind Blue Eyes, _The Who

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The Great Hall was being filled slowly, more and more students coming for breakfast, and Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin, was able to see each entrance from his seat at the head of the table: there came prefect Hanna Abbott, followed by her boyfriend and some other Hufflepuffs, none of the taking notice of their surroundings, completely at home at the Great Hall, surrounded by the same people since year one. No one paid attention anymore to the enchanted ceiling that showed the overcast sky outside, or to the floating candles just above the house tables.

Most of them don't see it really when they pass through, but Draco Malfoy could still remember the first time he entered the Great Hall. It was not his first day at Hogwarts, no, that would have being for another person, one which was not born a Malfoy, but he, he had accompanied his father more than once to the school before, him being in the council and all that, so when his father went to some meeting or another, he would wander by the school.

He still could remember the first impression the Great Hall had in him, those tall ceilings, these big-stone composed walls; and he couldn't help but being grateful that he could experience it alone, not being forced to hide his awe faking boredom for being surrounded for what his father believed to be –and he at that time- lesser beings born to be controlled and manipulated. Still now Draco couldn't comprehend this charm Hogwarts put in him. Malfoy Manor was also an impressive building, but in spite of the centuries the house had been inhabited by random generations of Malfoys, it lacked of that that Hogwarts oozed of, a sense of warmth and homeliness. It was all gone now, this feeling, but still he couldn't help but remember this first time here, the expectation it created.

Now Hogwarts was not more his home than it had been all those year back, and Malfoy Manor was no more a house inhabited by Malfoys, for all that remained there were some house-elves to maintain it, and despite his duty he was aware that it was too much of a big house for one single person.

The Great Hall door opened to reveal the younger of the Weasleys, the Weaselette, tail-followed by the Weasel shouting something or the other, and closing up the rear, in walked the Mudblood Granger and a mortified looking Potty. Leave it to Griffindors to give a good show. They where so dense sometimes…

That same last line was Hermione thinking. Dense indeed. Now that she was Head-Girl, she didn't have an objective vision of the rows that took place in the Griffindor common room, that with having her own place now. Yet, even when told the story second-hand she couldn't help but find it somehow stupid and over reacted. It seemed Ginny has developed a new cheeky character, one that she, being perceptive, has seen coming, specially when Ginny had spent so much time this summer in the Weasley Wizardry Wheezes helping Fred and George. But more than that, for having grown surrounded by the boys.

It was like this: Ginny had been waiting in one of the sofas for somebody to go breakfast with, all the while rearranging her socks and tying carefully her shoes, when Harry walked down the stairs intending to wait for Ron in the common room. She saw him and waved, patting the vacant spot on her side, and Harry obliged. Ginny was a wave of fresh air with her impudence and light personality, especially when one was used to Hermione, serious and prudish. Ginny's company was also helping her to loosen up; what is always important when you are seventeen, you being Hermione Granger, Know-it-all Griffindor Head-Girl or Harry Potter, expected saviour of the world -or not.

He could recall some days ago an incredible conversation which took place in The Three Broomsticks, (after one too many warm Butterbeers, mind you) about metaphorical broomsticks. Ron and Harry had been talking about this newly released broom which was slightly more aerodynamic than his precious Firebolt, and dreaming aloud of what a good use they could give to it if they could put their hands on it when Ginny had smirked, and bending towards Hermione she says in her ear, but loud enough for them to hear: 'What's it with men and broomsticks, don't they know it's not the _broom_, but the _talent_ and _dedication_ you put in the _ride_ what makes them good?'.

Harry smiled good-naturedly while Ron gnashed his jaw –little sisters were such a pain in the ass-. But what surprised them was Hermione's response to the little dirty joke. Instead of giggling softly, hiding her mouth behind her fingers, she had stayed put with her eyes closed and has said, a little bit too quickly: 'well, yes but, you know, the _dives_ are so much better in a good broom'.

And here Harry had to laugh out loud, not so much for the joke as for who had uttered it, while Ron looked at her, mouth agape. Ron had been at one point

–between five and six year- completely convinced of his love for Hermione, but when last Christmas they were forced to kiss under the mistletoe, all that was left, for the startled look of both of them, was a guilty feeling and a word promenading by their minds: _incest. _

And for once, they decided to talk it in a civilized way, and came to the conclusion that this possessiveness Ron felt towards her was based mostly in his big-brother complex; as for Hermione, it was her curious nature what betrayed her, creating a delusional feeling of _what will happen next?_ As Harry saw it the both have been awfully mature in handling this issue, which could have cost them more than mere embarrassment, it could have been the end of their friendship, had one been smitten when the other was disgusted.

Which took us to the problem at hand, because Ron seemed to think now that they were a big family, while Harry and Ginny lived in extenuating sexual tension, neither of them daring to take that final, last step. So when Ginny finished tying her shoes and rose back to a sitting position, revealing a little too much of her pale slender legs (Molly though she could go one year more with her old uniform), Harry found himself entranced at the sigh. Lupin had laughed one day saying that Potters, as far as he knew, have always being smitten by red-heads, but Harry had found, during these last hormone-revolution driven years, that he was a legs man. And Ginny's were the best pair he had seen so far.

Problem was, Ginny seemed to be well aware or that little secret, if that knowing smile meant something. It did, for she crossed hr legs deviously slow and shook the foot on top a little to gain his attention. Harry looked at her then, startled by the sudden movement and she smiled again, with her mouth slightly opened, showing her white teeth. It was then that Ron appeared, and Harry didn't know if he should curse him or thank him, because at that precise moment he should have said something, began some small-talk, but the words seemed void of meaning now, and he couldn't have thought of any.

Ron was taking on their appearance, all the while brow-furrowing upon noticing their postures. Ron Weasley may not have been exactly the brain of the Golden Trio, but still, such obvious body language spoke by itself: here was his little _sister_ with her legs crossed as she was bending slightly towards his _best friend._ Her back straight, hands behind her bum, and by Merlin's beard, showing too much leg (and Ron knew, mind you, of Harry's little fixation)

So what's a man to do when he sees such a display form his sister and his best friend? Why, take it on the sister. 'Ginny! What the fuck are you doing?' at what she stood with a sigh and walked towards the portrait hole without glancing back. They surely where following.

And that's how they made their entrance into the Great Hall, with Hermione recollected on the way down, Ginny not really trying to stop her brother's bickering, Harry feeling a mixture of embarrassment, guilt and amusement and Hermione placing the pieces together. They found their usual spot in the Griffindor table. Ginny and Ron arguing, Harry first attempted to cool them off, but seeing what may be coming he decided to act dumb, with Hermione casting side-glances at him with yet another (but quite different) knowing smile on her lips.

And all the while Draco Malfoy was watching them. He felt like the world was some stage play that (at least sometimes) he has already seen. People became predictable, and more often than not, they seemed badly done characters for a book: immobile, plain, and most important predictable. Weasley was bound to become redder and redder within minutes, while his little sister's shouts increased while rolling up her sleeves. Scar-head could not stay put, so he would rise and try to calm Weasley. And Granger, well, she would just ignore them and open a book until she freaks up and yells at them because they don't let her concentrate.

But the sadder part in this play that was life was his role, because for everything that was being displayed it seemed that his role was that of the shadowed character that observes the rest of the actors from the corner of the stage. But then he saw the Head-Girl draw her wand with an irritated look on her face, and he decided, it was time to play his role. So he rose and approached the Griffindor table.

'What is it Weasel, have you found your sister in your boyfriend's bed, or what? What a shame of a man you are'.

'Sod off, Malfoy'

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. 'is that all, Weasel, I think you need a little bit ore of fuel, but as you cannot afford it, I think I'll give it to you. Now, isn't it worth a thank you?'

Ron had to clench his fists to keep it cool… and not pounce on him in the middle of the Great Hall as he would have liked. Hermione was looking at Malfoy with a smirk of her own. 'You know, Malfoy, your immaturity doesn't suit your position as Head Boy' add to this a saccharine smile 'Not that I care, of course'.

Ah, those sneers! How much he loved and at the same time abhorrenced them. But that was the path he chose to follow, or better said, the path he was born into and chose not to leave. Why would it matter what happened behind, behind blue eyes?.

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Now, that's it, first chapter. I hope you like it. Also, I'm in need of a beta, English not being my first language and all, and also, because I'm a lazy bitch who needs persuasion, what does that remind me? Oh yes, I also need fuel! so please read and review.


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